As always, I return refreshed and recharged from the annual Christus Rex Pilgrimage: what camaraderie, what singing, what chanting, what prayers, what sermons, what High Masses – yes, and what tiredness, what early mornings, what aching feet... (Note to self: next year, take Thursday off work as well, so I get to Ballarat a good deal earlier than half nine at night!)
It was particularly pleasant to meet up with my old friend and erstwhile parish priest, Fr Rowe; and it was a deeply felt honour for me that he had me serve his private Masses on the three days of the pilgrimage (which provided an additional benefit, since it entailed remaining behind during one leg of each day's march, and afterward being driven to the head of the pilgrim column that had moved off in the mean time, shaving several kilometres off the trek each day).
There is more, much more, to say about the pilgrimage, but I will sign off for now with a humorous note: another priest, after saying his private Mass on the Friday, revealed that he had forgotten the Christian name of the new Bishop of Ballarat (in whose diocese we were), and in desperation made dog-Latin of his surname – saying "Birdo" in the Canon!
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